Compare This
by AC Tadhg
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy always gave Rose Weasley something to compare to.


Summary: Scorpius Malfoy always gave Rose Weasley something to compare to.

Thoughts&Thanks: First off, I don't really have any idea where I came up with this concept. I guess you can say I have too much time on my hands…time where I sit and just think of crazy stuff, and sometimes this crazy stuff is actually good. A huge shout out and thanks go out to my beta-reader and close friend, _Hayleywilliams_ (If any of you like Digimon or Twilight and want a good read, check out her stories!), you have been a big help and I can't thank you enough for being so supportive of the characters, plotline, and my writing. I would also like to say that this is say first Harry Potter fanfiction, so please, be courteous.

On another note, when I wrote this story the actors that I pictured were Lucy Boynton (Younger Rose), Rachel Hurd Wood (Older Rose), Alexander Ludwig (Young Scorpius) and last but certainly not least, the beautiful Toby Hemingway (Older Scorpius).

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This all belongs to our wise and beautiful queen, JK Rowling.

C o m p a r e T h i s 

Y e a r O n e

Whenever Rose Weasley felt homesick, she went to the library. Sitting at her favourite spot at an almost broken down table between the Famous Historians and Wintchley Wonder Classics Section was possibly one of her most favourite spots in all of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To her, nothing was better than having a dusty old book at her tiny fingertips. Her mind absorbed the dainty ink writings like a sponge to comfort and replace the need for her parents.

On this particular day, though, Rose was hiding for a different reason.

Albus Potter, her beloved cousin, had been spending the majority of his time with his new friend, who just so happens to be in Slytherin, who just so happens to be a Malfoy.

"Ridiculous," she spat as she sat at her table. A Potter and a Malfoy co-existing together in a friendly nature was just unheard of. How could Al just accept him so willingly, after all his family had done to them?

Jealousy sparked through her system as she opened the book she had grabbed randomly from the front desk. _'Valkin's Guide to Spells and Hexes, Version 1.'_ Hoping this would calm her nerves, Rose pushed her feral red hair back and leaned in to read the first word.

The chair opposite to her moved back, and there, sat a boy. A blonde, pale faced boy with a smirk on his face as he teasingly played with his slightly larger book.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Rose was taught to be civilized with people, but Scorpius Malfoy was the last person she wanted to see.

The smirk got bigger.

"Reading," he replied as he opened his book. However, not too quickly before Rose noticed the title.

'_Valkin's Guide to Spells and Hexes, Version 2'_

Y e a r T w o

"Scorpius Malfoy, you are a prat!"

Before the platinum blonde boy could reply, the small redhead thumped away before anyone could see her tears.

-

"You know," her cousin spoke quietly. "He really did study hard for that test."

Rose looked and felt a bit small as she huddled in a small loveseat that sat directly in front of the roaring fire Albus had prepared for her a few hours ago. Still tugging on her test results, her bright blue eyes staring painfully at the red number on the top of her paper. The second best mark in her Transfiguration class.

"I know."

Y e a r T h r e e

Fall had arrived early this year, the leaves had changed drastically into vibrant shades of red, orange, yellow and brown. Some leaves were even verging on falling softly to the ground, like a soft and silent lullaby.

Hogsmead was particularly beautiful this time of year. Rose examined in the stunning setting layed out before her as she stood with soft gray jacket with her mouth hidden by her gold and red scarf. Millions of tiny shops just waiting to be explored. Surely finding a birthday gift for her cousin shouldn't be hard at all.

As she walked into a vintage shop that held tiny trinkets, Rose happily browsed the store. She was in the middle of looking through a box of Quidditch jerseys when she heard the loud bell ring as the door opened.

The pair of footsteps heading quickly towards her direction.

She didn't even have to guess who it was.

"Don't have anything better to do?" Rose asked, refusing to look at him as she flipped through jersey's hoping she's find a particular name across the back. Scorpius shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nope."

"Well, do you mind leaving?" Rose turned to face him, a bit flushed by the fact that he was standing so close to her. "I'm sort of busy."

"What did you have in mind?" He asked, ignoring her request, looking at her right in the eyes, making her feel queasy, being under his intense stare. Surprisingly, Scorpius had grown a fair bit over the summer, so now Rose had to look up at him to meet his eye. She hated it.

"Pardon me?" He gave a light chuckle.

"For Al's gift."

Rose did a double take, her mouth forming a perfect 'O.' "Well, I sort of thought of getting him a Drake Meester jersey. He likes the _Falmouth Falcons_ so I figured – Wait" she said after rambling. "I don't have to tell you anything! Why I'm I even talking to you, this is ridiculous. I-"

"That's a very thoughtful gift, Rose."

Eventually, after much deliberation, Rose purchased the Drake Meester jersey and coincidently, Scorpius also got the exact same sport shirt personally signed by the professional seeker.

Scorpius also had the pleasure of walking around with a bruise shaped like a tip of a heavy book on his forehead for five days.

Y e a r F o u r

Defeat.

The combination of green and silver flourished in the stadium. It grew fast, like a cancer, washing away all the red and gold that now cowers and fades to soothe their shame. Quidditch had never been an easy sport and beating an unstoppable team was hard to come by. So when it happened, it was talked about. Sometimes with positivity and other times bitterly.

Slytherin raining victorious over Gryffindor was certainly a surprise. Seeing as the courageous lion always seemed to triumph over every other house for the last decade. However, this specific team was special.

Gryffindor's pride and joy Albus Potter, was an invincible seeker, and some would even argue or whisper that he was better than his infamous father.

Sixth Years, Kiwi Masterson and Genny Marcovitch took the beater positions. Playing with seven year old humor and remarkable skill. To them, it was just a fun hobby to entertain.

The keeper was the first son of Oliver Wood. Derek was a living, breathing replica of his father, both physically and emotionally.

Chasers consisted of Katherine Page, Hayley Cea, and Rose Weasley.

Although the crew representing the fearsome feline house were unbeatable (…until this point), there was always one house that matched up to them in talent and today they bested their rival in a stormy ten hour game.

Slytherin had won.

Anger.

That was all that Rose Weasley could feel when she dismounted her broom. Her red uniform soaked from head to toe in water, covering her body like a second skin. She breathed the musty air and revolted in disgust when all the colours she could see were green and silver; a red lion in a sea of green snakes. Feeling like she was about to break down right then and there on the field, Rose quickly followed her teammates into the dark walkway leading to their change room that would hide away her wounded ego and cover her distress like a warm blanket.

Alone in the damp hallway, she dragged her feet slowly. Inwardly trying to ignore the stomping that followed her, probably wanting the gloat and tease like he always did.

"Quite a game that was, wasn't it, Rosie?" he breathed behind her before he managed to mimic her same pace. Rose tried to take no notice of the chill he sent down her spine when she felt his breath on her pale skin.

"It certainly was."

He sensed her solemn behavior like a bear smelt honey.

"Now, now, Rosie. There's no need to be a sore loser. We all have our days. If I recall, you've beaten me in matches ever since we started playing the sport. If you can't handle-"

"Please don't call me Rosie," was all she said before she strained her legs to move faster while Scorpius continued to follow the red-headed beauty. He just couldn't take a hint now could he? Rose felt anger course within her and her face contorted in resentment. Rose stopped moving and turned to meet his I'm-hot-and-I-know-it smirk.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating?"

A chuckle came from him, "I am celebrating." He moved to meet her left side and put his arm around her should as if he were a close friend, leading her into a light stroll. Rose just stared at his arm like it was an infected growth that had sprouted on her shoulder.

"I was thinking…later on, maybe I could give you a few pointers," he quipped nonchalantly. Rose could practically foresee an arrogant comment coming her way. "I mean, I _am_ the expert. But don't worry, I'll help you out. You'll get there, I promise. It's probably not even your fault. From what I heard, your father wasn't a good player and your mudblood mo-"

Realization hit him hard as rationalization escaped her. Without warning, a hand came out and harshly brushed across his cheek with unbridled power. Tears welled up in her bright blue eyes; Rose huffed and panted heavily as she saw his face torched with guilt over what just happened. Somehow, the insensitive gift she had given him did not satisfy Rose.

Pushing Scorpius over to the wall with as much force as she could muster, her face still drenched in water, all she could think of was that word, that word that was dividing factor between the good and the bad. He insulted her beautiful, loving mother. The very one who told her stories of when she was a little girl and her years in the war, the one read her favourite book to her when Rose was feeling damper and miserable, and the one who never once judged her ideas or choices. This thing, this poor excuse for a human, had dared to call her mother that name.

Suddenly, Rose could no longer see the pale boy as she cried her way to the change room, nor did she see the mix of aching and bottomless remorse that was painted in his eyes.

Y e a r F i v e

Jonah Allen was quit possibly the most attractive male student currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His charming white smile, stunning bronze hair that every girl could virtually imagine themselves running their lucky hands through, and his domineering tall stature… He was, in short, the definition of perfection.

His charming face and muscular body was not the only thing that was perfect about this sixth year Ravenclaw. Jonah Allen happened to be smartest boy in his house who received top marks from all his teachers; he was head of his Quidditch team, a prefect, and he was pretty much already set up for being Head Boy next year. Apparently, from the people that know him well, say things like he's "the most charming person I think I've ever met." Or from his ever increasing group of fans girls that have spoken with him say he's: "So damn captivating."

Jonah Allen was also, coincidently, single and looking.

So during breakfast, as he walked down to his table, flashing a devious grin to his friends who were already seated and hollering over to him with zeal and enthusiasm, he made every single girl in the great hall swoon.

This included the witty and the ever growing loveliness that was Rose Weasley.

Maybe it was her little cousin's bad influence that turned into a starry eyed fan girl. Rose was always a late bloomer when it came to boys and romance. Up until this point, any indication of dating or crushing on a boy would have given her stomach flu. That very fact kept her father sleeping well every night for the last ten years.

However, this year as Rose finally blossomed into a young woman, boys were starting to notice her and she was starting to notice them. Just last week, Colby Finnigan had openly flirted with her in the library while they were working on their partnered Astronomy project. The only problem with him being interested in her was his extremely cheesy pick up lines.

"What do you see in the stars for us, Rose?" See? Really, really cheesy...

However, a few weeks ago when Rose and Jonah were paired up to do rounds together. During their walk through the great hall corridors, he gave her this breathtaking, one in a million smile and complimented her on her wild hair. If she remembered right, his exact words were: "Your hair…I like it when it's down."

From that moment on, she was hooked on him. So now, Rose joined Lily and her crew of miscreants as they admired his gorgeous face from their table.

Today, she was silently picking out names for their children. She liked Quinn and Zoe…and Mrs. Rose Allen sounded really nice when she said it aloud…Rose Allen…

A meshed up piece of toast in the shape of a ball collided with her forehead - bounced off - and landed promptly on her plate. Rose raised her eyebrow quizzically and turned her head to the side to search for her culprit. Probably some first years were having a food fight or something. Unfortunately, when she met the eyes of her perpetrator, it was not an eleven year old.

"Stop looking so pathetic," Scorpius growled at her as he looked down at his food, breaking up his toast in little portions as if he was storing ammo on his plate, preparing to fire again whenever he saw fit. "You're embarrassing yourself."

Sometimes, the cunning Slytherin would make his way to their table to eat with his best friend. They had made it tradition for the last three years, much to Rose's disappointment.

Upon hearing Scorpius' remark to his cousin, Albus Potter bumped him on the elbow and Scorpius began eating his food silently.

If Rose was a tolerant person she would have left her sworn enemy to wallow in his own self pity while she went back to admiring the glory that was Jonah Allen. Regrettably, Rose Weasley decided not to be tolerable today.

"I'm allowed to look at anyone I want to, thank you very much," she shot back with full throttle, fire gleaming in her eyes. Scorpius gazed up at her with a look she had seen him give a lot this year. His jaw was clenched (Rose could almost hear his teeth grinding together), and his eyes were stony.

Another piece was thrown in her direction and this time Albus' elbow nudge did nothing to faze his friend. This time the crumpled up ball of toast hit her neck.

"Seriously, how old are you? Three?" Rose scowled at him.

"Actually, I'm three months _older_ than you, sweetheart."

"Well stop picking on me," she frowned, trying not to blush at the fact that Scorpius Malfoy had just called her an endearing name, despite the fact that he had spoken it with a hint of mockery. Rose sighed, and continued to glance at him with a mission. "Can't you torture anyone else? For just a little bit?"

Staring went on for seconds but it seemed to go on for days as he refused to say anything to her, Rose took this as the end of their conversation and went back to finishing her meal.

"No," he replied, his voice strained and hoarse. His stare went from Rose to his unappealing and cold food; he swallowed the air in his throat. "I can't."

One thing after that day that Rose Weasley noticed was that although Jonah Allen had bronze golden hair, Scorpius Malfoy had pure blonde hair.

Although, Jonah Allen had a pearly white smile, Scorpius Malfoy had a grin that was extraordinary and precious.

Although Jonah Allen complimented her on her hair, Scorpius Malfoy gave her looks that could make her shiver in pleasure and disgust at the same time.

_Damn_ him.

Y e a r S i x

The first love should always be the fondest. There will always be a place in your heart for them, no matter what circumstances change in life. It is kept hidden though, like a secret or a hushed whisper that you only told in the darkest corners, in the darkest situations. The first kiss, the first touch is overwhelming and electrifying to experience from a virginal, fresh mind.

However someone explains it, a first love should always be sacred.

'A first love should always be sacred,' Rose concluded in her head, reminding herself to focus on the positives of her relationship with her first and only boyfriend, instead of the negatives.

The positives that Rose Weasley's beau, Oliver Lobel, had - was well…

#1 - They got along astoundingly well. They liked the same things… Her favourite piece of literature was Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare and Oliver, being muggleborn, also had the same interests when it came to the famous author. He had a strange fascination with poetry and sonnets since he was a small boy. Quite frequently, he'd often write little parchment messages and bestow them to her in between classes.

#2 - He was incredibly romantic and sweet and charming. Just down right adorable was what he was, her friends would all gasp in envy whenever he presented something loving and thoughtful to her.

#3 – Oliver would smile like Cheshire cat every time Rose would enter the room. Afterwards he'd softly kiss her nose with silent endearment.

#4 – He was so damn perfect she couldn't stand it.

Crap, was that a positive or a negative?

Maybe Rose was sick with some sort of viral disease that impaired her from feeling any real attachment towards her extremely wonderful boyfriend…or maybe she just had strange taste in men. She inwardly cursed her genes; she probably got it from her mother…

The biggest problem with her relationship was that it had no deep connection, no fond moments. No sparks.

No butterflies when he touched her hand, and there were certainly no fireworks when he kissed her either. Nothing. Zip. Nadda.

However, the lovable Hufflepuff really liked her, and a sixteen year old boy who actually admits he likes a girl for more than a good shag is hard to come by these days. Rose felt selfish to keep him though, knowing he was too good for her, knowing there's someone else out there who he's meant to be with.

Unfortunately, that girl just wasn't her.

_'Maybe I can grow to love him,'_ thought Rose as she was finishing up her midnight rounds down the Slytherin corridors where grumpy portraits scowled at her for rumbling and jostling about so early in the day. Not paying attention to the howling, she turned the corner glumly, where torches were lit on the sides and she could see her feet walking in a defeated manner. Finding no solution to her sticky situation as she promptly headed back to her common room.

"Rose."

It came out as a laugh, a familiar snicker.

Frozen to the spot, she breathed hard. Rose was too exhausted to quarrel with him today. Ever since the beginning of this year it was almost a fixed routine for them, she pushed his buttons while he pushed hers. Usually he only required it once a day. However, two months ago, they fought every time they saw one another with heated glares, wild remarks and constant bickering.

Hearing him tease and joke for the seven billionth time this month was not what Rose needed.

"Are you talking to yourself?"

Eyes widened, she faced him. "No, I am not."

The reply sounded like it had authority laced around it. But the way she spoke it, it almost sounded like a closed murmur underneath her breath.

"_Maybe I can grow to love him_," he imitated in a feminine voice that happened to sound nothing like Rose. "Ring a bell, doesn't it?"

Blood boiling and fingers clenched, she felt as if she were mixed in the middle of screaming at the top of her lungs and crying her heart out in front of the person she hated and admired the most.

Caught between letting a good thing go or keeping something that'll satisfy you but never make you truly happy.

Fighting against an unmovable object, knowing in her heart she could never truly grow to love him. There has to be some foundation for her relationship with Oliver and it just wasn't there.

Then, she finally chose.

Tears flowed down, and once the salty liquid started there was no way to stop them. Flowing down her rosy, distinct cheeks like a steady stream as if she were washing away her quiet and unyielding emotions that had plagued her for weeks. Letting it out of her system, she no longer cared that Malfoy was watching her chaotic breakdown, she no longer cared that he would probably tease her until they both graduated, she no longer cared that he would think of her as weak and pathetic.

Huffing and hyperventilating at the same time, all that could be heard was her cries as they echoed down corridors and rooms that surrounded her.

Rose Weasley will always remember the moment that happened shortly afterwards. It'll stay fixed into her mind; she'll take it to the grave with her. The most unusual thing occurred.

Soft arms embraced her, tightly, fastening firmly around her waist like a lock refusing to be opened. These arms belonged to Scorpius Malfoy.

Gasping loudly, she murmured in the unusual and beautiful embrace that currently engulfed her, "what are you doing?"

His mouth by her ear, taunting her as he replied delicately, "what does it look like I'm doing?"

There was no need for her to reply, because Rose already knew the answer to the question. Slowly, like a baby, her arms reached up to find his collar. Scorpius smiled in her neck and pulled her up so that her feet were no longer touching the ground.

Grasping each other, just holding, just being. A lightning stroke through them, overwhelming and sending them to place that was not filled with test scores, pressured moments of adolescence, or competition. They were in a world where none of those things mattered anymore.

For the first time Rose saw him as Scorpius, the playful and ambitious boy and not as a evil and conniving Malfoy.

More tears streamed down.

"You don't belong with him," he breathed in, the phrase releasing and solving all her problems with just one sentence. "You never did."

Rose basked in his spicy scent, tugging at him, knowing he was right. More tears went down.

Hesitating, she asked him a question she was scared of knowing the answer to.

"Who do I belong with?"

Dropping to her feet, his hold on her still firm, his fingers traced the creases in her polyester button shirt with affection that was reserved for only her. Rose met his striking, poignant grey eyes; she already knew the response to her question.

Regardless, he stared at her with stubborn intention and answered. "Someone… like me."

Tears formed in her eyes and resurfaced. A hand came up to wipe them away, he leisurely took his time examining her face, touching her nose, cheeks, and finally lips. Burning under the sensation, the difference between her boyfriends touch and Scorpius' was astounding. Rose found herself willingly move closer to him, wanting to smell that spicy scent that inhabited his shirt once more.

Instead, her bright blue eyes latched onto his grey ones. His hand still brushing her lips, hovering there like a complex spell, bewitching her senses. "Like me, Rose."

It was a command, not a suggestion.

Scorpius replaced his calloused fingertips with his colorless lips and finally gave her the solution to her never-ending problem.

Rose Weasley finally got her fireworks.

Y e a r S e v e n

"Have you told them yet?"

"Not yet."

"Are you going to tell them?"

"Just give it a little bit more time," Rose stressed aloud as she sat by the grand fire on the floor next to the coffee table, writing a Potions essay about whether or not Yugei fungi was physically harmed to include in a healing anecdote (which was due in a few weeks). Her boyfriend of a little over a year was stretched out on the feathery couch like a panther relaxing on a sunny day, leisurely playing with her red curls, wrapping and twisting them around his index finger. Rose struggled to keep the center of her attention towards her assignment.

"It takes time for a Weasley to adjust; we have a very low tolerance for change…Remember when my baby brother found us under the bleachers after your Quidditch game with Hufflepuff?" Rose huffed quietly feeling slightly mortified upon recalling the event in her mind. Her brother Hugo had simply showed up at the wrong place at the wrong time. Scorpius had won the game and they were just…celebrating.

Rose could pretty much hear him grinning brightly at the fond memory.

"Enough homework," he said mischievously pulling her right off the ground. She responded with a yelp and vast protests against being moved from her previous position. He scooped her up in a heartbeat and set her down on top of him, so that she covered him like a human blanket. This gave him better access to her hair and waist, as he continued tugging at her curls.

"We should be setting an example," she mumbled into his shoulder, frivolously pulling at his green shirt with tender care. "You're Head Boy."

"Exactly. That's why we shouldn't be doing anything; we've already worked for it." Scorpius reasoned and placed another hand underneath her shirt, where skin touched skin. Rose shivered blissfully, feeling more butterflies erupt from her stomach. "Let's just enjoy the last few weeks we have here…then we've got the whole summer."

"I still have to tell my dad about us."

That was the big elephant in the room, the only thing standing in her way of openly speaking to her family about her deep connection with Scorpius. Her father was a peculiar man who had the common weakness shown in most men, density. Although Rose was a visibly grown woman now, she will always still be seen by her dad as the tiny baby girl who threw around their rutty old quaffle together on rainy days.

"No one's stopping you." Scorpius reminded her as he was closely paying attention to a particular crimson coloured ringlet that strayed outwards on the right side of her face by her ear.

After several seconds of being uncomfortable with his fixed gaze and profound fascination with her red locks, Rose's ears matched her hair. "You know you're still a prat, right?"

"Good to know."

"So tell me about this amazing summer you have planned for me," said Rose meanwhile resting her chin on the top of his chest so that she could look at him directly.

"It'll be the best summer you've ever had." Scorpius placed both his hands on both cheeks so that he was cupping her face. One of her wild tresses still wrapped around his long finger. For a moment, Rose thought she would suffer from a heart attack because her heart was beating irregularly and her palms were clammy.

"Compared to all the others?" Rose asked breathlessly.

Scorpius gave a rare wide grin that could be photographed and put under the word _"beautiful"_ in the dictionary, and nodded. Then, without any hesitation he brushed his lips to hers in a light kiss.

Rose should probably never doubt in his ability to surprise her, though. He'd been doing that ever since they met. Scorpius had always shown her something more than what she predicted and he'd most likely continue doing that for as long as she knew him (which she hoped was for a long time).

Whether he was vying her for attention or competing for it.

The fact of the matter was that Scorpius Malfoy always gave Rose Weasley something to compare to.

-fin-

Reviews = Love


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